It was as if he had awoken into crystalline light. Ichabod shook his head minutely, dislodging stray twigs and loose dirt. He gazed up at the canopy, blinking slowly in the weak winter sunlight.
He felt strangely discombobulated-not as he did whilst emerging from his tomb, but as if he had been purged of some heavy, dark cloak. He stood, scanning the clearing for any movement. He could recall coming to this place, searching for an artifact, but everything else was gone.
"Crane! Crane, where are you?" The lieutenant's voice echoed to his left. He took a step towards the tree line when he stumbled, a strange, metallic clang sounding at his feet. He bent and grasped the medallion in his hands. He ran questioning fingers along the sharp edges and felt a tremendous sense of déjà vu.
Abbie emerged from the forest, picking her way to him quickly through the underbrush. She reached out a concerned hand and cupped his elbow, looking up searchingly into his face.
"Crane, are you okay?"
"You know, I do rather dislike the unspecific nature of that word.
Abbie huffed a small laugh, recognizing the distraction for what it was.
"I notice you didn't answer." She nodded towards his hands. "And you found the amulet. Do you think it will really unbind Henry from Moloch?"
Ichabod opened his mouth and then paused. He recalled Miss Mills' query, but also cataloged a downtrodden weariness in her countenance that he was suddenly certain he had seen many times before. He froze, recognizing her reluctance when it came to saving Henry and wondered why he never noticed before.
He waited for that prickly, whispery internal voice to correct him, but there was nothing inside him championing for Jeremy. He very suddenly could not understand his insistence, to his detriment, no less, that Henry needed, much less deserved saving.
He had always been a proponent of one's moral fortitude being most obvious at the worst of times. It was one of myriad reasons he held the Mills sisters in such high regard. Even Miss Mills' lie about the events in the forest had caused her considerable distress until Ro'kenhrontyes had forced her to confront her conscience
It suddenly seemed such a folly to ascribe some outside force as solely responsible for Henry's insanity. Jeremy Crane was his child, but Ichabod had perished before the babe had ever drawn breath. It was madness that he had been putting the redemption of a man who did not wish to be redeemed above the sacred mission for which he had been awoken.
"Crane?" Abbie shook his arm, watching with concern as he clenched bloodless fingers at his side. She had been so relieved to find him well after they had been separated, but he seemed to be in a state of shock. He trembled slightly under her small hand and gazed at her as if he were looking for the universe.
"Miss Mills-Abbie," he watched her flinch when he said her name and felt a wave of despair that he might have already done irreparable damage to their partnership in his benighted quest. He quickly recalled time after time that the Lieutenant had cautioned him and trusted him, only for him to ignore his vows to her. He paused and plowed ahead, hoping that he would not worsen their already precarious trust.
"Abbie, I know now that I have been acting as if Henry had no agency, as if his pain somehow justified the cruelty and misery he has rained upon others. I find myself lost as to why you have not admonished me-even censured me more than you have. It would have undoubted been deserved."
Abbie took a gulp of air, a tidal wave of rage crashing over her. She had tried and tried to swallow her words, knowing that, whatever Crane said about his fidelity to their mission, he had shown, in reality, a true lack of ability to compartmentalize. Katrina was in trouble, so we have to save her now, rather than thinking through what the most necessary course of action might be. It had been the same with Henry. Crane had had very little patience with Henry Parrish, but once the truth of his parentage came to life, Crane had suddenly taken responsibility for a man he had not raised and did not know.
After being brought up in foster care, his outlook seemed completely nonsensical to her. She had had the luck of a relatively good situation, but being raised in the same home for years hadn't suddenly made her family. Crane had never been able to parse out that while he loved the idea of a Jeremy, he could denounce what Jeremy had become.
She cocked her head at him, making a critical visual sweep of him, confusion beating back her anger. "Why the sudden sea change? Only this morning we were searching for the amulet in your hands as a way to divide Henry from his master."
"I can only surmise that the amulet worked as intended and severed the false bond.
Abbie shook her head distractedly, "But what false bond? He is your son-neither of us doubt that. I doubt he would hate you so much if you weren't."
Crane staggered abruptly, crashing to the forest floor. Abbie tried to stop his descent, but he was too tall and ungainly for her to do any good.
"Are you-," Abbie stopped as a chillingly bitter laugh emerged from his throat. He looked up at her, with tears glittering on his eyelashes.
"Katrina."
"What about your wife? Did she have something to say about the amulet? What is it Crane?"
He looked at Miss Mills with heartbreak dripping off of him. "She didn't know about the amulet, but, I daresay, had she, it would have been made abundantly clear to me not to attempt to retrieve it in any way.
"I awoke here, Miss Mills, and felt as clean and clear as summer. I felt as if a heavy, muffling curtain had been lifted, but I could not credit the feeling. But, but," he raised his hand bidding her to let him speak in his own halting time.
"The truth of Henry's deeds was suddenly so clear to me. I abhor the way that he was treated. No child should suffer as he did, but never should he have been allowed to fester while innocents suffered by his hand.
"I stood here and reflected, waiting for my inner voice to admonish me, to quell my distemper. But here I stand, only my conscience in my ear. That voice that I always took as my inner morality, is now wholly absent. And," here Ichabod gulped, know this was nothing that could be unsaid,"that voice always agreed with Katrina."
Abbie let out a shocked breath. She had expected a revelation based on how pale and weak Crane had become, but could never have expected this.
"Are you saying that she, what-magically made you agree with her?"
Ichabod let out another humorless chuckle. "If only that. At least persuading a husband to agreement is a common feature of every marriage." He continued to laugh until a wet, harsh sob broke through his reserve. "No, I am saying I am suddenly very unclear about the nature of out entire courtship and marriage. I broke faith with Abraham, my family, and my country and the logic behind all of those actions seems wholly untenable and confusing. I still love this country and Arthur Bernard's death will ever haunt me as an example of true tyranny, but my prior character would have dictated agitating from within. Going back to England and utilizing my words and professorial status to attempt to bring logic to the conflict.
"And Mary," he sobbed brokenly, "dear Mary. No, I did not wish to be married to her, but ignoring her concerns seems quite unlike me. As does taking a farewell letter at face value and discarding all knowledge of her character. She was always viciously tenacious."
Crane clawed his way to standing, slumped against a tree trunk. "That is it though. She recognized that I was not myself. Katrina's story does not make any sense, and though I was upset, I still did not or could not think it through."
"Abbie, who am I honestly? A Witness? A puppet? The ramifications of just touching this amulet are staggering. What if nothing I believe of myself is true?"
Abbie looked over his bloodless face and shaking hands. She pondered what she could say or do to make anything better. Then she slipped closer and wrapped her arms around him, just reminding him that he was nor alone.